


This Petty Pace

by Angel_ite



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 15:57:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16390739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_ite/pseuds/Angel_ite
Summary: An alternative story line to Dishonored 2 wherein Emily Kaldwin takes Kirin Jindosh hostage rather than neutralizing him with the elctroshock machine or killing him.





	This Petty Pace

He had always suffered from sea sickness, ever since he was a boy. Born near a harbor, he’d been subjected to the cruel ocean more than a hundred times, sailing on luxury liners, expedition vessels, and the ship that brought him to the academy then back again after just two years. The mode of transportation never mattered—he always succumbed to the worst sea sickness imaginable.  
The Dreadful Whale was no different, apparently.  
He wakes in a lightheaded haze, his vision swimming, his stomach churning, and his head throbbing with every beat of his heart. There’s no time to check his surroundings as he quickly rolls over on his stiff cot and wretches onto the floor, his brain pressing against his skull like an insect trying to burst from its cocoon. When he finally stops and catches his breath, he groans in disgust and quickly sits up, noticing a towel and a bowl of water on a table next to him. He reaches out his left hand to take it but halts abruptly, realizing and becoming dumbfounded at the absence of his ceramic prosthetic. Numbly, he wiggles the fingers and blinks once then twice, fully comprehending that its missing.  
He finally takes in his surroundings.  
He’s in a small, claustrophobic little metal room with no windows and no internal lights. It is lit only by a whale-oil lamp humming quietly near the door, casting a yellow glint onto the objects within. There’s a desk, though it is small, a bed, which he is sitting on rather crookedly, and the small table with the towel and bowl. Kirin takes it all in, processes it, then looks down at himself.  
He’s wearing less clothing than he was before. His shoes are gone. The white button-up shirt was stained—with vomit—and the top button and middle button had been torn off.  
What had happened? His ears are _ringing_. The sound resembled screams the longer he sat in silence listening. To distract himself, he shifted in the bed and laid his head back against the cold metal of the wall. The soft thud of his skull against the surface sent a tremor through his body that nearly made him see stars, and he grit his teeth together to keep from whimpering.  
He tries to remember the last thing that happened to him, but it leaves him as soon as he tries to grasp it.  
There isn’t any more time to think about it as he’s suddenly distracted by the sound of hard boots against the floor just outside his door, approaching fast.  
He pulls himself up into a decent sitting position just as the door unlocks with a click and Billie Lurk swings it open, glaring first at him then the mess on the floor. “Shit. That’s what I thought I heard,” she hisses, then backs up and slams the door, locking it behind her.  
He sits there in stunned silence for what felt like only a minute before Billie re-enters the cramped space with a mop in one hand and a bucket of murky water in the other.  
“There aren’t any servants here, Jindosh. If you don’t want to be thrown overboard with your hands tied, you clean up your fucking messes.” She throws him the mop and drops the bucket to the floor, unwavering as water sloshes over the sides. Then, under her breath as she goes to exit again, she says, “I told her to leave your ass, anyway.”  
Hours passed after that. He had put the mop aside and refused to clean for about thirty minutes before the smell started to disgust him and he finally stood and vigorously mopped it all up. Then he sat and focused on his predicament. He knew who he was and he knew what he’d been doing two— _three? six?_ —days ago. So clearly, he can feel the curved wood of the screwdriver in his hand as he bent over the chest piece of a clockwork. He’d read Breanna’s letter that morning and planned to write back in an hour or so. What had transpired that lead to this?  
He contemplated this calmly, at first, then he gradually grew more and more frantic and frustrated as time went and on nothing seemed to come back to him. He was growing anxious, hearing feet shuffle beyond the door. Kirin had never met Billie Lurk before, though he had heard of her name. To him, she was just an unfamiliar face with a scowl. Three hours into his solitary confinement, Kirin lies back down on the cot and stares at the ceiling, angrier at this point than he was frantic. Knocking on the door or demanding to be let out would prove fruitless. He was no fool, so he didn’t even attempt it. Instead, he lied there and closed his eyes, trying to quell the relentless pain in his skull.  
_Someone activated the lobby transition. He stands up and fights back the startled flutter in his chest, refusing to believe it might be panic. He knew she would eventually come for him, too, after she’d paid her visit to Hypatia. It was only a matter of time—_  
Jindosh is jostled by the sound of a key sliding into the lock of his door. He quickly throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands, ready to fight his way out now that he was in a better state of mind. He readies himself to bolt just as the door swings open and the former empress blocks his path, her thin form somehow resembling a brick wall between him and his exit. He hesitates and thinks to himself “she’s not wearing her mask anymore” and startles himself in doing so. What is he remembering?  
“Good to see you’re not a drooling mess,” Emily says with a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. It’s not a cruel smile, but it’s not kind either. “Though I’m still not convinced you wouldn’t have been better off that way.”  
Jindosh doesn’t attempt to rush past her. He’s too caught up on what she’s saying. Drooling mess? What was she on about?  
He doesn’t say anything and she narrows her eyes and looks him up and down cautiously before craning her head over her shoulder and calling out to Billie Lurk, “Maegan! Did he say anything earlier, when you checked on him? I think I may have fried him a little too long, after all—,”  
“I’m—,” Jindosh hisses, startled by the sound of his own voice. It felt weak, like his throat was full of cotton. He clears it and tries again, slurring, “I’m perfectly capable of speaking, thank you.”  
Emily returns her attention to him and soon Billie Lurk appears behind her, leaning causally against the hallway wall. The former empress raises her eyebrows. “I was beginning to wonder. Back at the mansion, you never stopped talking so I just assumed that was your constant state of being.”  
He flinches and _Clockwork Soldiers! There’s an interloper in my home! The sound of gears grinding and breaking, wood splintering, gunfire_ reaches up to rub at his forehead. His thoughts appear mangled and unclear.  
Emily watches him and her cool demeanor slips a bit the longer she sees him holding his head, wincing. “Jindosh, look. That was the same voltage you were giving Sokolov and he’s still alive. You’ll be fine.” But she says it like it’s a question, like she wants him to answer it and confirm her suspicions.  
He cannot, at the moment. He can’t confirm anything.  
They stand in silence as Kirin finally shakes away the intrusive visions and groggily blinks at the two women in front of him. He scowls at them, acutely aware of his relationship with the two of them—Emily through direct affect and Billie Lurk through association—and intends to stand his ground. “What is this, then?” he demands, “A bargaining ploy? A temporary jail cell until you can deliver me to a proper one? Or do you think Delilah’s going to come fetch me? Ha!” his scoff is sharp and painful, making him wince. He forces himself to stand tall and meet the young girl’s quizzical gaze. “You couldn’t kill me, or wouldn’t. And that tells me that you’re a coward and only further convinces me you aren’t fit for the throne.”  
Billie’s icy stare of murderous intent is somehow not as concerning to the inventor as the slow grin that is spreading across the former empress’s face. She begins to chuckle to herself, then shakes her head. “I remember, when I was a little girl at the hound pits pub, I would go visit Sokolov when we first captured him. He was standoffish, too.” She looks behind her, past Billie, into the well lit room in the distance. “I’ll give you time. If you don’t change your attitude by the time I’ve regained my throne, I’ll give you to the Academy of Natural Philosophy and I’ll let them council me on what to do with you. But I don’t think it’ll have to come to that. You’re not loyal to anyone but yourself, Jindosh. I’ve read your self-indulgent journals. You’re as loyal to Delilah as she is to you. And we both know she’s not coming to “fetch” you.”  
Billie shakes her head and stares upward with disapproval. Emily reaches into her coat and pulls out a fresh over shirt. “Devote yourself to the rightful empress and I’ll see that the clockwork soldier program replaces Dunwall’s grand guard by the month of songs. There will be compromises, obviously, but I see no reason why we can’t discuss it.”  
The two of them bid him farewell and close the door again. Locking it. Kirin stands there, still a little disoriented despite all the time having passed, before shaking himself out of it, shouting, “I suppose asking for something to preoccupy myself with is out of the question?”  
But no one graced him with a response.


End file.
